


Bond Between Us, The

by HASA_Archivist



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Characters - Friendship, Characters - Strongly in character, General, Plot - Bittersweet, War of the Ring, Writing - Clear prose, Writing - Well-handled introspection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-19
Updated: 2005-05-03
Packaged: 2018-03-24 18:10:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3778798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HASA_Archivist/pseuds/HASA_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At various places on his journey with Frodo Pippin reflects about his relation to his cousin learning what it means to care for someone. No slash!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Crickhollow

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the HASA Transition Team: This story was originally archived at [HASA](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Henneth_Ann%C3%BBn_Story_Archive), which closed in February 2015. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in February 2015. We posted announcements about the move, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact The HASA Transition Team using the e-mail address on the [HASA collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hasa/profile).

Fleeing from the last bit of preparation that still needed to be done, Peregrin grabbed his cloak and went outside Crickhollow in search of his elder cousin. As he walked down the green and star-lit path Pippin could see him sitting on a bench placed on the meadow, lost in thought as he had often been of late. Silver moonlight bathed the pale face and ebony curls hid wistful eyes.

"Frodo?" Pippin asked softly but the older hobbit did not answer. His eyes kept their far-away look as Pippin sat down silently beside him and gazed up to the stars. Unlike Pippin, Frodo had always been of a broody sort and was even more so since deciding to leave the Shire.

"You have known about the Ring and my intentions for a long while and you probably made your decision to follow me a long time ago as well. Now you have seen the Black Rider. You have seen some of the danger that lies ahead of me. You know, I don't ask you, but are you still willing to follow me?"

Pippin was surprised to hear both concern and a silent plea in his cousin's voice and he was even more amazed to find Frodo's deep, blue eyes gazing directly into his. For a moment he felt exposed and bashfully lowered his eyes. Did his cousin know how frightened he was? Did he realise that he was not as light-hearted as he used to be? Slowly Pippin lifted his head, meeting his cousin's enquiring gaze and almost gasped at what he saw there. It seemed to him as if Frodo's very soul was exposed to him. He could see Frodo's fears, his concerns, his love for his home - the land as well as the inhabitants - and the pain it caused him to leave it behind for though he was still in Buckland, Frodo had already left the Shire behind. In his heart he had already said his farewells, locked away the treasured memories and planted a seedling of hope for a possible return. Pippin could see Frodo's insecurity, but also his determination. Frodo allowed him to see all that and more. He had said he would not ask him to come along and Pippin knew Frodo meant it, but he could also see the joy and relief he would give his cousin if he did not have to go alone.

"I am willing to follow you - now more than ever. You're my cousin, Frodo, and one of my dearest friends. I would follow you anywhere, be there danger or not." Though his voice was soft Pippin spoke with all his heart and he saw in his cousin's eyes that Frodo knew the honesty in his words. Love and admiration shimmered in the deep blue pools of Frodo's eyes as a silent sigh of relief escaped his lips and Pippin could not help smirking. "Besides, you are not going to have an adventure without me!" he declared.

Frodo broke into chuckles. "Indeed, I am not," he laughed as he put an arm around Pippin's shoulder and pulled the young hobbit close.

Recognising the joy in Frodo's voice and seeing the dark thoughtfulness in his eyes pass, Pippin could not help snickering.

"Well then, let us get some sleep. We will need our energy in the morning."

That said Frodo rose to his feet, adjusted his coat and glanced to the small house that would be his home only for tonight. Pippin looked at him a moment longer, not sure whether he should be surprised by his cousin's sudden change of mood or not. The starlight shimmered in his cousin's eyes and though they were still dark and deep they no longer revealed Frodo's very heart and soul, and that was comforting. He had to admit that he had felt just the tiniest bit uncomfortable when so much emotion was exposed to him.

Only when he heard Frodo chuckling did Pippin realise he had been yawning widely. His cousin was right; they needed to get some rest while they still could. With a dart Pippin got to his feet and allowed Frodo to put an arm around his shoulders as they made their way swiftly back into the house and, for now, locked out the darkness and troubles that awaited them.


	2. Trollshaws

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At various places on his journey with Frodo Pippin reflects about his relation to his cousin learning what it means to care for someone. No slash!

Pippin's lids seemed burdened by a heavy weight as he gazed into the dazzling fire. He felt as if he were in a dream with his head lolling periodically to his breast and dream-images appearing before his half-closed eyes. His limbs ached and he was cold in spite of the golden flames that now seemed too bright. The chill wind seemed to find its way even through his woollen cloak and blanket, and the small fire they had built did not help to ease the chilly waves that shook his weary body.

Pippin felt a cold hand on his waist as Merry pulled him closer and he eagerly huddled against his cousin's arm dragging Frodo, whose head was resting heavily on Pippin's left shoulder with him. To the young Took's utter disappointment the new won warmth was stolen away as quickly as it had been gained by another gust of chill wind. His sigh of relief turned into a moan of frustration that matched the low, distressing moans and sighs of the tree-tops above them. It was a sound that made even his cheerful heart gloomy and miserable and, at the moment he felt too tired to fight the melancholy. All he wanted was some rest, some sleep in a warm, soft bed with a thick blanket - no, _two_ thick blankets - a warm fire crackling in the hearth of his room at Great Smials, and a steaming cup of tea.

He had almost managed to smell the comforting odour of chamomile, feel the weight of many blankets on his chest, and hear the crackling of the fire, when another gust of wind got entangled in his curls and sent icy shivers down his spine. Pippin jumped awake blinking as he tried to focus on the gnarled tree-roots that hung over the shallow pit in which they were resting. Shadows danced before his tired eyes and he wearily shook them away.

"Pippin?" his cousin whispered voicelessly and the young hobbit turned his head to meet Frodo's confused gaze. His elder cousin looked more tired than ever and his eyes were not as clear as they used to be. It seemed to Pippin that a shadow had been laid upon them and that the spark of the life they held was concealed.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, slightly confused himself, though he now realised that it had been Frodo's head resting on his chest rather than warm layers of blankets and that his movement had wakened him. He put a tired arm around his cousin's shoulder and pulled him close again, allowing him to rest his head on his legs. "Go back to sleep and rest while you can," he whispered though his own words belied him. Frodo had not rested in a long while and he looked more tired with every day that passed.

Frodo did not protest when Pippin guided his head to rest upon his lap and his eyes closed even before he touched the ground. There he curled into a tight ball to get as warm as he could, but he kept shivering violently.

Pity and love welled up inside Pippin and he flung both arms around his cousin clutching Frodo's cloak with his left arm as if his life depended on it. Frodo, who had once allowed him to see his very heart, was now locking him out. He would not even bother Sam with his feelings; though Sam, if no other, was determined to take care of everything concerning his master - he and Merry would never live up to the gardener's standards and neither would Strider. The latter tried his best to ease Frodo's discomfort, but he could do almost nothing for him. Frodo kept saying he was all right, but Pippin, like everyone else, knew better. He was in great pain, Pippin could tell from the look in his eyes and the way his eyebrows narrowed when Bill would take a jolting step. Frodo had not found any rest since that dreadful evening on Weathertop. Even when he slept, his dreams did not give him peace and he kept tossing and turning all night. Pippin shuddered, thinking of what Frodo's dreams might be and found himself looking fearfully out of the pit, expecting to see a shadow or some sign of the enemy, but seeing and feeling nothing of their threatening presence.

Beside him Merry stirred, huddling his blanket closer and leaning heavily against a rock on his right. For a moment Pippin was tempted to follow his cousin and huddle close beside him drawing in his warmth but he did not want to disturb Frodo again. He looked at the dear face, pale even in the golden light of the fire, and brushed a stray strand of hair back from its brow, sorrowfully watching his brow crease in pain and the fingers of his right hand twitch. His left arm remained still, almost lifeless. Carefully Pippin placed his own hand on it. It was icy cold. He gasped and pulled Frodo's cloak over it, rubbing it slightly in hopes of getting it warm again, when suddenly another pair of hands was on his.

Pippin looked up to see Sam gazing down at his master. "'tis always cold since Weathertop, no matter what I do," he said in a low whisper. "It's almost as if those wraiths had taken all the warmth from it."

Pippin nodded. He had noticed the chillness of Frodo's left arm before but he always blamed it on the wind and the unfavourable weather. Now that he thought about it, he realised that Sam was right. Though Frodo's wound had healed well already, his left arm remained cold and the pain it caused him seemed to grow every day.

Clutching Frodo's cloak tighter, Pippin lowered his gaze unable to conceal his concern and worry any longer. His eyes rested on Frodo's face watching the shadows of the firelight paint their playful images on his pale skin. To his distress he noticed a thin layer of sweat on his cousin's forehead and his heart ached even more at the sight of it. Painfully, he remembered the words Strider had spoken only this evening.

_"Frodo has been touched by the weapons of the Enemy and there is some poison or evil at work that is beyond my skill to drive out."_ *

"Do you think he has been poisoned?" he asked, his voice sounding broken and thin even to his ears and yet he hoped Sam would not notice.

"I don't know," Sam answered quietly and his voice, too, was full of concern. Though Pippin did not lift his head to look at him he knew Sam was watching Frodo's face as intently as he was. Sam had grown to love Frodo just as Pippin had loved him for all his life.

Beside Merry, Frodo was his closest friend and Pippin now realised that he had followed Frodo not only because of their friendship and relation but also because of genuine love that had bound them together since the earliest days of his childhood. He understood that he had left with Frodo because he would not have been able to stay without him. Frodo had been there for him all his life. He had dried his tears when his sisters had been mean to him and had chastised the girls much to Pippin's satisfaction. Frodo had stuck to him though he had caused more mischief than even a Took should have been capable of, and had soothed Paladin and Eglantine's wrath upon occasions that Pippin would have more deserved to face it. Frodo had taught him how to catch frogs, told him great tales and had taken him on adventures to the most stunning places in the Shire - hills and lakes - where Pippin had collected the most gorgeous stones. How could he have stayed at home knowing that Frodo was in danger? How could he have let him face trouble alone and still call himself 'friend'? Friends, after all, had to be there for one another, had to lend a shoulder to lean onto when things were dire, and they had to be each other's strength when their own powers failed them.

But what should he do if Frodo's strength failed him now? What if he could not help him?

Pippin felt Sam's hand on his shoulder giving it a compassionate squeeze. "Don't you worry, Master Pippin, your cousin is made of stern stuff and will be strong enough to fight whatever evil is at work here."

"I know." Pippin managed a wry smile. His dear cousin's stubborn nature could keep him calm through the most gruelling trials, but the youngster could not conceal his own fears. The compassion he saw in Sam's eyes almost made him want to weep but he gathered himself and gave Sam a thankful nod. Their love for Frodo bound them not only to him but to each other as well and he knew Sam felt the same as he did.

A shiver ran through him and Pippin was suddenly aware of how tired and cold he was. Sam noticed it too and suggested he get some sleep.

"I will look after him," he promised, his eyes on Frodo's face.

Seeing Sam like that made Pippin smile, despite his fears, his weariness, and the cold. Sam took care of Frodo as if he had never done anything else and Pippin was glad to have him along. Alone he might not have been able to cope, but together with Sam and Merry, he could give Frodo the strength he needed to fight the evil that had taken hold of him. Laying his hand on Sam's shoulder, Pippin returned the gardener's earlier compassionate squeeze. "Thank you, Sam," he whispered as he looked deeply into the other's eyes. "I know Gandalf bade you come with Frodo, but you could still have stayed in the Shire. I know you miss your home, but I'm glad you're with us."

Even in the dim firelight Pippin could see Sam's blush. The hobbit fumbled awkwardly with his cuffs and bashfully lowered his eyes, mumbling some incoherent words. Pippin could not help smiling a little. "I mean it, Sam," the tween repeated honestly.

Sam, though still red as an overripe tomato, finally lifted his head again and met Pippin's gaze. No trace of abashment remained in the gardener's dark eyes and Pippin was almost astounded at the loyalty, honesty and love that greeted him instead. If he had not been convinced before, he certainly was now. Sam would follow Frodo anywhere, just as he and Merry would. He would have gone with him even if Gandalf had not asked. Sam, as if to prove Pippin's newly won conviction suddenly opened his mouth to speak and for a moment Pippin doubted that he had ever known Frodo's faithful servant, for his words held more truth in them than Pippin would ever have imagined.

"It's not only that, Mister Pippin. He's like that and I wouldn't want to be anywhere else but at his side. Besides, there is this feeling," he paused for a moment as if pondering the words he was uttering, "I have something to do before the end and though I don't understand it yet I know I have to be with him."

Pippin gaped at him for some moments until Frodo moaned in his sleep again. Casting a quick glance at his cousin and assuring himself Frodo was all right, Pippin shook his head and leaned against a rock behind him. "Samwise Gamgee, I think you're going to surprise me a great many times during this journey."

Sam did not answer. He checked Frodo's left hand yet another time and snuggled into his own blanket. The last thing Pippin saw before his eyes finally gave up the fight against his heavy lids was Strider who had returned from exploring the surroundings.

 

 

~*~*~

* The Lord of the Rings - Flight to the Ford


	3. The Field of Cormallen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At various places on his journey with Frodo Pippin reflects about his relation to his cousin learning what it means to care for someone. No slash!

Pippin turned around just a moment after Merry had left the tent, and suddenly felt weak and helpless. He was tempted to call him back, after all Merry had offered to stay by his side, but he mastered himself and made up his mind. He had wanted to do this alone and alone he would, yet the iron grip of fear clutched his heart so tightly Pippin almost felt physical pain. The fingers of his right hand, still half-raised from the attempt of calling Merry back, shook so hard Pippin needed to concentrate to ease the trembling as he let his arm sink.

It had been twelve days now. For twelve long days and countless more before them, he had been anxious to see Frodo and Sam again. Countless days where he had not known whether they were still alive or not and could only cling to what little hope still remained. There had been times when he had put his concerns aside, for there had been other pressing concerns too, but there was not a single moment when his heart was not with them. In most unexpected moments he would find himself thinking of them, asking himself if they were all right, if they looked upon the same sky, if they had achieved victories like the one the Ents had at Isengard or if they still had to hide in fear of unfriendly eyes. The thought that they might be dead was on his mind too, but he had abandoned it before it could take shape and would not pursue it even in his most desperate of moments.

Only after Sauron's ghastly servant presented Frodo's belongings to him and the armies of the West had he given up. At that moment, all his hopes and fears had come crushing down on him, burying what little light remained in darkness and swallowing every tear he would have shed. There he had given up and embraced death when it came to him. The moment of pain seared all consciousness from his body though many things were on his mind. Pictures of a long forgotten past emerged before his closing eyes - images of the Shire, of his home - and his heart formed the last wish it would ever form; if only I could see those dear ones again, his parents, friends, family, even sisters. And there was Merry, there was Sam and there was Frodo. Frodo, who, by then, was dead for him.

And yet he had lived. They had _both_ lived, though in Frodo's case, living was not what it should be. For Pippin, living meant consciousness even if you were forced to stay in bed. Frodo had stayed in bed for twelve days now, just as Pippin had done, but he had not woken a single time. Merry had told him that he had moaned in his sleep, as he had on their journey to Rivendell after the Witch-king's blade had stabbed him, but apart from that there, had been no sign of life. Frodo's eyes remained closed, his lips sealed and his body motionless. As did Sam's.

Pippin had been disappointed when he had woken up some seven days ago and had found he was not allowed to see them, but he begged Aragorn and Gandalf and even Merry, who came here only days ago, to tell him everything. Yet he had not entered their tent himself, not until today. This was the first day he had been allowed to be up and about. Though he was sure he could have been on his feet before that, Aragorn had remained strict, no matter how he begged and tried to convince him to let him to get up.

Now he was finally up and actually made his way to Frodo and Sam's tent and yet he could not make himself and walk to their beds. No matter that he was glad to see them, he was also frightened. While he rested, he had wondered what the journey to Mordor had done to them. Had it left only traces of its evil on his friends, or changed them entirely? Mordor was, after all, not the easiest road one could take, especially not with the One Ring around your neck, a thing perilous enough on its own account. He would have liked Frodo to have remained as he had always been: a cheerful, thoughtful, queer fellow who had as much a sense for mischief in his forties as Pippin had in his tweens, but he worried it would not be so.

Taking a deep breath, Pippin slowly turned to face the beds Frodo and Sam lay in. He had to get this over with now or he would never find the courage to do so.

"You have slept away your birthday," he said with a scowl in his voice as he approached Sam's bed. He was careful to avoid looking at Frodo just yet. Shaking his head, he even managed a smile. "You silly hobbit. Probably only wanted to get out of giving mathoms. Well, I can tell you, you won't get around _my_ present and don't tell me you had not thought of a little something for me because I know you have." The smile on his face faded and his cheerful voice broke. "What else could you have thought of during the long nights you were away?"

Sam had probably not even known his birthday had come and gone. He had looked after Frodo just as he had promised, probably better than anyone else could have. Still, he was a cheerful hobbit and birthdays were a cheerful topic so he could not help pulling Sam's leg a bit even though he was still unconscious.

The sight of Sam's face gave him a start of fear. His usually chubby cheeks had lost their rosy colour and were pale, cavernous, with healing scratches all over them. Deep lines of worry and sorrow now marked his brow and, though he looked peaceful, his face told of many hopeless hours and great pain. Sam had never been one to give up hope easily, just as Pippin would remain cheerful if he could, even in the darkest hour, but he knew, somehow, that this time, Sam had given up. Perhaps on the very same day he had.

Gandalf had told him how he had found them and Pippin somehow knew that they had waited for death there. What else could they have done? They had no hope of being rescued amidst ashes and flames. Pippin suddenly found himself wondering whether they would have welcomed death more than the eagles that had born them away. He abandoned the thought immediately and lifted a trembling hand to brush back some of Sam's golden curls. Sam certainly would not have welcomed death more than rescue and Frodo would not either. Pippin would not allow him to.

"I want to thank you, Sam," he whispered almost voicelessly, "not only for following Frodo, but also for taking care of him. Though I haven't looked at him yet, your face tells me a lot of what you have been through together and I want to thank you for being his strength. Frodo is tough, but I have seen the Ring gnawing at him ever since we left the Shire and its effects grew worse the further we travelled. I don't even want to imagine what it did to him in the end. You will have to tell us of it, you know, because Frodo will never speak about such things. He has never been one to speak about anything that has troubled him, fearing we would worry. But we worry because he is dear to us, as you well know, and we want to take care of him."

He placed a gentle kiss on Sam's forehead as a token of his love, gratitude and a multitude of other feelings words failed to describe. Pippin gazed at the sleeping face before him for a long moment studying the fine lines time and troubles had carven into it and dreading to look at the other face he had ached to see and prolonging the moment he would finally turn around for as long as he could.

He remembered Frodo's face in Rivendell, worn and white as a sheet. He had been unconscious then and Pippin had thought long about what the journey from the Shire had done to his cousin. He had sworn to himself that he would never allow Frodo to go through anything like that again. And yet he had. Frodo had recovered and had volunteered to take the Ring on an even more perilous journey than the previous one, a journey on which he and Merry had initially not been allowed to join him. He remembered Merry's words that if Frodo had to go, then it would be punishment for any of them to be left behind and he could hear his own voice echoing in his ears. "We hobbits ought to stick together, and we will. I shall go, unless they chain me up." And he would have, even if he had not gained Master Elrond's permission.*

Pippin had tried to keep evil from Frodo, but in the end, even a whole fellowship could not protect his cousin. It had been Frodo's fate to go to Mordor alone and Pippin was convinced that it had also been _his_ fate to go through the things he had experienced.

Taking a deep breath Pippin shook his head. He was being far too pensive for a fine spring morning. He would soon become as broody as Frodo.

At last, Pippin turned to look at his cousin, but even Sam's condition had not prepared him for the sight. It struck him like a mortal blow. For an instant, he swayed, clutching the mattress of Frodo's bed with both hands and gasping as if the very breath had been taken from him.

And even as he stared at the pitiful body, an image came to his mind of a night long forgotten. Standing at the bottom of the Hill in the Shire, laughing and joking with Frodo and Sam as they adjusted their straps. _"He's been quite slack lately, and he'll feel the weight less when he's walked off some of his own,"_ he had teased when Frodo moaned about the weight of his pack. The memory of the merry laughter that had answered him filled his eyes with tears. It had been so long since he'd last heard that bright, clear sound. _"I shall be as thin as a willow-wand,"_ his cousin had joked. **

Frodo had changed much since Amon Hen where Pippin had last seen him. In Rivendell, he had already been thinner than he had ever been before but now… Thin as a willow-wand he had become indeed.

His face seemed that of a stranger, yet there remained about it something that was familiar. Pale skin that even the sunlight streaming through the tent could not brighten showed many blood-crusted scratches and swellings that seemed unwilling to heal. Cavernous cheeks accentuated pallid, chapped lips and a chin made stronger by the hollowing of the jowls. Though Frodo looked peaceful in his slumber, fine lines had carved the traces of pain, strain and sorrow deeply into his face. Ebony curls that once glimmered in the light of a new morning were dull and strands of silver among them gave the tousled mop an uncharacteristically aged look. To Pippin it seemed as if the Ring and the journey to Mordor had sucked all youth out of Frodo's body.

Pippin's legs turned to jelly and he knelt beside his cousin's bed. His eyes filled with tears that he tried his best to blink away.

"My dear cousin, what has this journey done to you?" he whispered in a broken voice. Frodo looked so fragile Pippin was afraid he might break, but he needed to touch him, to prove to himself that this was real, that this _was_ his beloved cousin. He reached out a trembling hand and lightly stroked the wan cheek. The skin was warm beneath his fingers and soft and the young hobbit could not help smiling, though Frodo showed no reaction to the caress.

The touch was enough to ease Pippin's fear. Frodo looked terrible and Pippin could see much of what he had been through in his wretched face, but he was alive and Pippin could feel the soft light shining from him. It was the light of love, compassion, mercy, goodwill, curiosity and understanding. It was Frodo's light; a radiance Pippin had first seen as a child, snuggled close to his elder cousin on his first visit to Bag End, his first night away from home. He had forgotten about it and yet the light had always been there, emanating from Frodo like an invisible essence.

He sighed with relief. The light meant Frodo, and it meant that whatever he had endured, he was still Pippin's dear cousin. The wounds would heal, the deathly pallor be cured. He leaned forward to place a soft kiss on Frodo's cheek. "I'm sorry I could not come earlier, Frodo, but I was hurt too and Aragorn would not let me up. He is King Aragorn now, I'll have you know, but he is just as stubborn as he ever was."

Pippin's his gaze fell upon Frodo's right hand. It was bandaged but Pippin could see the gap where Frodo's finger once had been. Merry had told him about the injury, but no-one knew how he had lost the finger. Pippin lowered his eyes, sadly.

"You have paid dearly for this journey, cousin. I once thought we were only going on an adventure," He lifted his head to Frodo's worn but peaceful face. "Do you remember when you asked me if I were willing to follow you? To be honest, I would not have come had I known what would come to pass, and I think I would have tried to stop you too, somehow. Our adventure was not quite like old Bilbo's, but an adventure we've certainly had." Pippin reached to caress Frodo's cheek again and his smile returned. He suddenly felt like an old nanny telling stories to a child in a sickbed. "Wait until you hear of the Ents and Isengard and how we came to meet the King of Rohan. Merry is his esquire, you know. He has the same shiny green and white mail every knight of Rohan wears. But he doesn't look half as handsome as I do in the silver and sable of Gondor. I am an esquire too, but in service to the King of Gondor, Aragorn. I offered my service to Denethor, who was the Steward of Gondor but--" Pippin paused, realising suddenly that he was babbling again, and snickered, shaking his head. "Just wait until you hear all the tales, Frodo. Merry and I can tell a great many and I don't doubt you and Sam have a few yourselves. You had better wake up soon so we can both hear all that has happened since our parting at the Anduin." Pippin still smiled though unshed tears shimmered in his eyes and his voice, exuberant from story-telling, grew low again. "Just wake up soon."

A hand lay upon his shoulder and Pippin jumped, startled to find Merry standing behind him, his face grave and sorrowful. "He will wake up," the older hobbit assured and Pippin nodded scrambling to his feet but not taking his eyes from Frodo. Sam and his cousin would wake up; it was only a matter of time.

"Let them rest now," Merry said softly. Pippin kissed Frodo goodbye and Merry led him slowly out of the tent. "I heard that bit about the livery, you rascally Took!" he said. Pippin grinned. "Don't you dare think you look better than I do! What's that tree compared to the white horse of Rohan?" Merry tried not to smile. "Frodo will agree with me, you shall see!"

Pippin nodded feeling he would agree with anything Frodo said if only he could hear his voice again. Merry put an arm around his shoulders, smiling compassionately at him. "He'll be all right," Merry assured him, and, though his voice remained cheerful, Pippin could see his sorrow reflected in his cousin's eyes. Though Merry might not show it and seldom spoke of them, his cousin shared the same fears and worries about Frodo as he did.

 

 

 

~*~*~

* The Fellowship of the Ring – The Ring Goes South  
** The Fellowship of the Ring – Three Is Company


	4. Grey Havens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At various places on his journey with Frodo Pippin reflects about his relation to his cousin learning what it means to care for someone. No slash!

"If he stays it will be his end; and it will not be long in coming. His time in the Shire is over for his heart and soul are craving for greater healing than any of you can give him, no matter how much you love him and care for him."

Pippin's heart had broken at those words and by the way Merry had clutched his arm he could tell that his cousin had not taken the news any better. He had not been able to look at Merry, had not even managed to breathe but had only stared at Gandalf. The wizard's words had always seemed like wisdom to him and he had ever trusted his judgement but this time Gandalf must be mistaken. Of course they could help Frodo heal so that he would not have to go. Frodo loved the Shire and had ached to be back home, so why should he be so eager to leave it again without any chance of returning?

"He cannot go!"

Pippin had been grateful that Merry had mastered himself enough to voice the thoughts he had not been able to speak out aloud though his mind was screaming, begging Gandalf to laugh and say that he had only been teasing them.

"You have to talk him out of it, Gandalf. _We_ have to talk him out of it!"

"My dear hobbits," Gandalf had replied as calmly as ever, shaking his head, his eyes shining with sympathy. "I have not come so that you might talk him out of going. This choice was for Frodo alone to make and he has chosen. I have merely told you because I know you would want to say your farewells and because Sam will need a friend at his side."

Gandalf had not said much more before heading off, but Pippin, usually not easily silenced, had found himself utterly speechless even after the wizard had gone. He had not spoken a single word that evening and Merry, too, had been close-lipped and broody. Gandalf's words sank slowly into him and the longer he thought about them the clearer they became and, though it did not please him, Pippin came to understand that the wizard had spoken the truth.

He had watched Frodo often since the day they had returned and he had been grieved to see that his cousin received hardly any honour for what he had done. No one seemed to see or even care about what Frodo had achieved, what he had sacrificed so they could live in peace. At first he had not noticed that Frodo withdrew, but soon even he, Merry and Sam together could no longer reach him. His cousin started to have secrets from them and ever so often, when he felt unwatched, his hand would wander to the white gem Queen Arwen had given him and his eyes would take on a longing, far-away look.

To his dismay Pippin found that his cousin had changed far more than he once had thought. Frodo would laugh and seem happy to everyone who did not look closer, but those who did would see that joy was gone from his very eyes. Pippin had often looked deeply at him, remembering what he once had seen in his cousin's eyes. He had been young then and frightened by such emotion and affection. He hadn't understood what he saw but now he ached to see it again. These days, a dark shadow seemed to shroud him. The deep pools that would reveal Frodo's very soul if he allowed it were curtained behind pain and sorrow. Pippin had come to know that Frodo tried to conceal his suffering from his friends and it had pained him to see his cousin pretend a cheerful mood while melancholy was written undeniably into his eyes.

Pippin also recalled that Frodo never had regained his former body strength . Though he had recovered splendidly, he had remained uncommonly thin according to hobbit standards. He had often been pale and he tired more easily, sometimes being totally spent from something as undemanding as a short visit at the market.

And thus it had been that, late on the evening Gandalf told them about Frodo's intentions, realisation struck Pippin like a hammer blow. He had seen that Frodo's heart had not been at peace anymore for a long while. He had known about his cousin's anguish from the first time he had seen the veil and the far-away look in his eyes. He had seen Frodo's restlessness and done nothing for it. Deep in his heart he had known that Frodo would never be happy in the Shire again and yet he had tried to convince himself the opposite was true. Pippin loved Frodo dearly and, having almost lost him, he clung to him even tighter than before in the hopes his cousin would never leave them again. But he had not seen that, by doing so, he had allowed the darkness in Frodo's mind to take hold.

That night Pippin suddenly knew that Frodo had sacrificed even more than he, Merry and Sam could see. Frodo had sacrificed himself, had given his heart and life so they would not lose theirs to darkness and despair. And he had done so secretly, without anyone realising that the longer Frodo stayed, the further he slipped away from them. Pippin comprehended with a certainty that surprised even him that Frodo could not stay with them any longer. If they loved him they would have to let him go or their love would be his death.

Merry had not been willing to listen to Pippin at first but he, too, admitted to seeing the changes in Frodo and, for fear of losing him again, had done nothing to help. They had gone through darkness and horror with Frodo and they did not want to let him go just like that. Merry, like he himself, had hoped their love for their cousin would be strong enough to fight the darkness that tried to settle on him only to see that they could do nothing but watch him suffer. Thus in the end Merry, too, came to realize that neither their love, nor any other force in Middle-earth would be strong enough to help their cousin.

So they had left Crickhollow the morning after Gandalf visited and rode further west than they had ever done before. In the end, when he feared they would not make it in time Pippin's heart quavered and the tears he had not shed the night he had finally understood Frodo's choice streamed down his face. He would not be able to bear it should he not be able to embrace his dear cousin one last time. He wanted to tell him that he was sorry for not helping him, and that he would wish for him to stay, but also that he understood his decision.

And as Pippin urged his steed around the last corner he could hear the gulls call and behold the sea unfolding before his very eyes. A white ship lay anchored in a harbour of stone. And there was Frodo, ebony curls shimmering in the sparkling sunlight and in his eyes there was joy. A great burden was taken from Pippin's heart and amidst his tears he began to laugh. "You tried to give us the slip once before and failed, Frodo. This time you have nearly succeeded, but you have failed again. It was not Sam, though, that gave you away this time, but Gandalf himself!"

"Yes," said Gandalf; "for it will be better to ride back three together than one alone. Well, here at last, dear friends, on the shores of the Sea comes the end of our fellowship in Middle-earth. Go in peace! I will not say: do not weep; for not all tears are an evil." *

Gandalf's words provoked even more tears and Pippin felt helpless against the emotions that welled up inside and threatened to overwhelm him. Despite his decision to let Frodo go, he now wanted desperately to hold him back. What would he do without his cousin? Of course he had Merry but, although Pippin loved them both, life without Frodo would never be the same. His heart ached as he turned to tell Frodo just that, but no sound would come from his trembling lips. Frodo was kissing Merry in farewell and he gasped in awe. It had been a long time since he had last felt light emerging from Frodo, but now it seemed to him that he could see it too. Frodo seemed to sparkle as he had never done before and Pippin closed his eyes drinking it in as one dying from thirst. Calm and peace embraced his heart and all his troubles suddenly seemed petty and of no importance.

Only when he felt gentle hands resting on his shoulders did Pippin open his eyes like one waking from a pleasant dream. He found Frodo gazing deeply into his eyes. The light had diminished but he could see it sparkling in his cousin's enquiring glance and he remembered that, in a far away past, he had felt exposed to that look, but he did not feel so now. Instead he opened his soul and returned the gaze with all his love and understanding and allowed Frodo to see what was in his heart. He wanted him to know everything of himself, to understand why he had done nothing to help him, and to know that he did accept this choice to leave them behind even if it pained him.

In return he was allowed one last look into the deep blue eyes that concealed more than Pippin had ever thought possible. The veil of shadow had been lifted and Frodo did not withdraw from him anymore. Frodo's heart and soul were at ease already and told of many things he had spoken of, and of even more his cousin had never even mentioned.

The tortures of Mordor were revealed to him; the fear and despair and the constant seduction of the Ring. Pippin could see the evil it had done to his cousin though he could only imagine the strength it had taken for Frodo not to give in. Frodo had been exposed to the very eye of malice and not a single place in his heart, not a single treasured memory had remained untouched by its gaze. Darkness had swallowed him with nothing to hold onto save Sam. Pippin understood that Frodo's servant and friend had done more than even Samwise himself had realised and felt more grateful for him than ever.

But by knowing what had happened to Frodo, Pippin came to understand him more. He had been frightened, never again wanting to be exposed like he had once been and thus he had shut himself up and allowed no one to see his heart. And even if he had, it would not have affected Frodo's decision to leave. Pippin felt Frodo's struggle to return to his former life and the pain it caused him to learn that he could not. There was no place in Middle-earth dearer to Frodo than his home, but the marks of evil had been carved too deeply and had taken peace from him, whenever he thought he had regained it.

There was sadness in Frodo's eyes also and Pippin gasped at the heartsickness his cousin had felt because he had never told them of his feelings. Frodo had seen how joyful they were and had not wanted to spoil their happiness by burdening them with his sorrows and had therefore made his plans regretfully in secret.

"But there's no need to be!" Pippin almost shouted, but, suddenly remembering his own selfish deeds, his lips remained sealed and instead he let his emotion show in his eyes. He had not helped Frodo, although he had seen his agony, because he feared he might lose him. Guilt welled up inside him and Pippin lowered his head, but even before he could fully break eye contact with Frodo, his cousin had placed his maimed hand under his chin and forced him to look at him a moment longer.

"Don't be sorry," his eyes seemed to say. "You have done more for me than I probably deserve and I am grateful for everything. I understand your fears, Peregrin, and I am sorry to leave you; know though, cousin, that you will never lose me. I am looking into a hopeful future and I want you to be equally hopeful about your own. There will be healing for me that I would never have found in the Shire, even with friends like you and Sam and Merry, so don't feel sorry for anything you have done."

And Pippin understood, though still taken by the way Frodo could talk to him without a single word exchanged. He nodded slightly so only his cousin would see it and blinked away a tear that had gathered in the corner of his eye. He wanted to embrace Frodo for it seemed to him they had stood there for a lifetime though only a couple of moments had passed, but when he opened his eyes again he found that Frodo's gaze had changed, and he had furrowed his brow in bewilderment. Both love and sadness were in Frodo's eyes and a silent plea seemed to form in the deep hollow that was Frodo's soul and for a moment Pippin thought he could hear his cousin's voice in his mind. "Love my home as I have done, cousin, and live a life worthy the sacrifices that were made to preserve it. Don't ever forget the tale we have been in so that folk would never forget the darkness they had only just escaped. But most of all take good care of the Shire and its inhabitants, especially Sam. They all have been very dear to me. I only ask this much from you because I know you already love what once has been my home and family."

With that Frodo flung his arms around Pippin and held him tight before the young hobbit could even recover from everything that had just been shown to him. He was aware that Frodo would not need an answer to his plea but already knew he would gladly fulfil his humble wish. Pippin would treasure it more than any gift he had ever received and would remember it every single day of his life. So instead of answering he flung his arms around Frodo's neck and inhaled deeply the musk of pipe-weed, old parchment, leather and ale, a scent that would ever remind him of his cousin. Though he did not yet understand everything Frodo had revealed to him, his heart was lighter and he was, at last, willing to let him go. "I will miss you," he whispered as he clutched his cousin's cloak tightly.

"So will I," Frodo answered in a voice so low only he could hear it, "but I will be at peace and so will you. Do not trouble your heart, cousin. Keep your spirit and do not worry about me. I will be just fine."

Pippin wished that moment would never pass and he kept it in his heart and treasured the memory of it. At length, so it seemed, Frodo cupped his face with his hands to place a gentle kiss on Pippin's forehead, and when the young hobbit lifted his head he found Frodo smiling at him so heart-warmingly he could not help smiling back.

Silently Pippin watched as Frodo turned to say his farewell to Sam and while he did so he heard the cries of the gulls and the murmur of the waves, and smelled the salty smell of the sea. A great calm took hold of his heart and seemed to lighten it more than it had been in days. Even as he watched Frodo going aboard, his sorrow did not return, but the smile Frodo gave them filled Pippin's heart with joy. He knew without any doubt that Frodo would heal and find the rest he longed for. Not once did he take his eyes from the white ship that bore his cousin hence, even when the sails were drawn up and the wind blew and it slipped away with only the light of the glass of Galadriel in Frodo's hands glimmering brightly as the evening deepened to night. He and Merry stood protectively on either side of Sam and though neither of them spoke, they took comfort in each other's company. They waited until far into the night until neither ship nor star-glass could be seen and though the knowledge that he would not see Frodo again grieved him, Pippin's heart was at ease and he did not weep. Frodo had chosen to sail into the west where his heart would find rest and comfort. Pippin too would find comfort in Merry and together they would care for Sam. The one who had once brought them together might not be with them anymore, but they still had each other; and the bond between them would not be broken even in the lands beyond the western sea.

 

 

~*~*~

* The Return of the King - The Grey Havens


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